From March until May but not April or June
The world changes songs to a different tune
With the fresh crisp mornings, the first rusted leaf drops
And in the blink of an eye – there’s suddenly lots!
Gliders of all the hues of the sun
Orange and red, they dive with such fun!
And sink to the ground on a breath of fresh air
Piling up into mountains at the bottom down there.
And as the leaves pile, the branches go bare.
Reaching up, shivering cold in the harsh autumn air
Without summer coats to cover their bones
The skeletal trees, they creak and they groan.
And down where the roots reach out to grow
The river seconds it’s motion, and is starting to slow
With a layer of diamond beginning to form
The chilled water beneath can hide from the storm.
And as it rolls in, I’m preparing myself
Getting gumboots and jackets down from the shelf
I head out the door on a hunt for the gold
The leaves and the puddles coated in cold.
Ripe for the crunching, the stomping and jumping
This here is autumns best kind of something.
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